Salvo Fair 2010

A glorious weekend here in London Town, hampered only by the footie score (though personally my viewing experience was considerably more enjoyable during the second half, when we abandoned the crammed pub and relocated to a lovely empty TV-less cafe to sit in the sun with a cool glass of wine and watch it on the iPhone). In a bid to get back to the “good ol’ days” of 1966 (and even in some cases, 1866) I spent my pre-match build-up surrounded by salvage and vintage wonderness at the Salvo Fair 2010 (seamless link, non?!)

Set in the grounds of Gothic-tastic Knebworth House, this year’s fair saw over 50 antiques and salvage dealers from the UK and Europe pitch up in tents, caravans and even a vintage horse box (also for sale, natch) to tempt us heat-frazzled vintage lovers with a dizzying array of architectural salvage, furniture, linen, nick-nacks and all-round fabulousness.

In this setting, somehow even rusty balls seemed like the ultimate must-have. Sure beats potpourri wicker ones…

Rustic terracotta pots all dressed up with a lick of vibrant paint – lovely contrast…

Not quite sure what these were (wheels? Drawer knobs?) But they sure did look purty all grouped together in their cobalt splendour…

A vintage French shuttered cabinet that would look stunning in my country chateau. The one located in my head, of course (one day….)

Apple crates galore…

Plus some charmingly displayed touches of whimsy

My vintage-loving companion caved in and purchased one of these huge green bottle jars, and plans to convert it into a lamp base, crafty.

And me? Well I could hardly leave empty handed. I ended up squeezing the following into Serge the Corsa, then excitedly arranging it all in my garden at home thus:

The apple crate was my bargain of the day at a mere £5 – several other dealers were selling them for £12-18 each, and on the interweb Baileys sells reconditioned numbers with  castors for a whopping £36! I like to think there’s a Westcountry farmer with thousands of them in his barns, chortling at the prospect of fancy London folk wishing to pay silly sums of money to use them as storage in their urban city flats.

I also picked up this quirkily-handled watering can (which, it turns out, leaks – errr, adding to its authentic charm?!) and two lovely, rustic ladles, at a knock-down price of £25 for the lot.

And with my shopping gland well and truly itched, at the princely sum of 50p this widdy little fella was simply crying out to be taken home to my vintage utopia. But what’s that charming, oh-so-delightfully rusty tabletob upon which your purchases are placed, complete with the perfectly distressed painted wooden chairs, I hear you cry? Ahh, that, my friends, is my piece deresistance, the price of which I dare not commit to type for fear of bringing on a panic attact (it wasn’t really that much in the grand scheme of things, just rather heart-murmur-inducing for a gal who’s entire furniture collection seems to consist of donated items and things pulled out of skips). Suffice to say she is rather special and, let’s say, an investment piece, and is worthy of her own entire blog post later on when I’ll give a thrifty demo on how to turn a rental-inherited bed of weeds into a mini Kew for about £35 and a few pulled muscles. Right, I’ve got a rather lengthy appointment with some weeds to attend to first…


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About Joanna Thornhill

Freelance Interior Stylist, Author, Writer and Crafter working for a range of magazine titles and commercial clients. Author of Home for Now (CICO Books 2014)

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